Buck
by Pitselehvv
Summary: Criminals have never been considerate of Tony's personal plans. - Story brought on by the National Championship game. Dash of T/Z.


**AN 1: This story starts, goes, and ends nowhere. Given OSU's presence in last night's game, I needed a dash of T/Z to the whole thing. This is the result. I claim no success.**

**AN 2: I haven't watched an NCIS episode since 11x02 for obvious reasons, so I have no idea if this goes against canon in any way. Apologies and what-not. The only thing I might be spoiling is the game's outcome.**

**Disclaimer: Nothing's mine. If it were, we'd all be much happier.**

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><p>Getting home on Monday night, when he managed to get home on Monday night, was pretty routine for Anthony DiNozzo. He'd be exhausted, as Mondays usually left him, so he'd get a beer to go along with his take-out. Tony would crash in front of whatever game or movie was on TV to keep him distracted long enough before he went to bed. It was a lot like his Tuesday evening, but then again, it was hard to find a good game on Tuesdays.<p>

When his alma matter had managed to get a spot on the national championship game, Tony had made unusual plans for a Monday evening. He would meet his buddies at the pub, drink to whatever drinking game they came up with (and every touchdown and every tackle and every punt and whatever else seemed like a good reason to drink after three beers), eat too many wings, yell at the screen for good measure, and then he'd get a ride home and sleep until his alarm or Gibbs beckoned—the latter being the more unwelcome option. That would also make for a different Tuesday, since he was not used to getting to work with a massive hangover anymore. He did not dwell on the why too much, because doing that usually made him want to go for a good, stiff drink. He decided that given the circumstances, this hangover would be justified.

Criminals had never been considerate of his personal plans, though. By 6pm on Monday evening, it became clear that getting out of the office at a reasonable time to get to his friends and watch the game—even watch _some_ of the game—was not going to happen. He had tried to bring it up with the boss man, but as soon as he began to speak, he got a swift and gruff "Don't even think about it, DiNozzo" from the old, all-knowing Gibbs. And just like that, his plans were no more. However, Tony was no probie. There was the alternate and less appealing plan of watching the recording of the game. If he was going to make it home in any state to enjoy that (and the beers and take-out), he had to start working now.

DiNozzo had never considered how hard it is to be uninformed until he needed to get completely disconnected from any and all OSU related news. He'd proceeded to inform all of his buddies about his inability to drink the night away with them, and told them in the most menacing tone he could convey—through text message—not to tell him anything about the game. Then, he blocked any incoming messages and calls coming from the bar crowd for the evening—he trusted none of them to stay quiet, especially once they got drunk and loud. He muted or disabled all sports-related applications on his phone. He put an OSU filter on his personal email account. He put an Oregon filter on it, too—he couldn't be too careful. He would have turned off his cellphone altogether if that wouldn't invoke The Wrath of Gibbs upon him. As a last step, he had used all of his Senior Field Agent Power to warn the probies that if anyone uttered a single word about the game in his presence, there would be hell to pay. Tony decided that they were either too uninterested or too tired to care, because there was no way he had failed to impress them. The rest was up to him, and he swore he'd make it work.

By the time Team Gibbs had caught their man and filled the required paperwork, Gibbs had been gone for a while, the bullpen was mostly dark, and Tony could not wait to get home to his DVR and a nice, cold long-neck. He gathered his things with a smile while the probies looked at him with tired eyes, and bounded out of the office with a purpose. The OSU Information Ban of January '15 had worked, and he was oblivious as to the game and its result. It was go time.

He had practically jogged into his apartment when he felt his cellphone vibrate with an incoming text message, and reflex kicked in before his brain did. The single line registered before he was truly aware of what he was doing, and by then, it was entirely too late.

_ Congratulations. – Z_

Tony let his backpack slide to the floor, staring down at the screen. He smirked and shook his head; it was just like her to challenge his plans, even from miles away. Tony put the phone back in his pocket, and headed for the kitchen. He needed to figure out what to answer, and thoughts of her always required a good, stiff drink. At least he'd have someone to talk to as he watched his Buckeyes take the game.


End file.
